Russian Roulette

It’s been three days and I’ve typed only to delete the four lines of my brain ramblings. It has ranged from hurt to love to anger to just simple confusion. It has been that type of week, wherein I remember everything all at once and I miss and hate and love it all at once.
Right now I’m sitting in the car listening to Yuna talk about how he remains her favorite thing and I too yearn to one day pen something amazing about you. Eventually I will feel like what Brian was talking about when he said “If you think this is as good as it gets.”
And also I’m sitting here thinking about how impractical it is to completely trust someone else with your most priced possesion – heart – only to never be entirely sure if they know what to do with. We literally play Russian Roulette with our hearts.
See – it’s been a week of silly toss ups between optimistic forevers and the accepting of the wine dinners in my onsie going through an Scandal box set.
Is there a statute of limitations on nursing a broken heart? Does the concept of love at first sight really trully exist? I need to believe that the answer to these two questions is yes. That one day you will not learn to live with the catch in your heartbeat everytime you think of that one time. But that rather after a set period the poltergeist just disappears in the rear view mirror of one’s subconcious memories. That one day you will meet and you will know and you will be forever.
So perhaps my tossing and turning has just been an arrival to this specific place I am in. Where I understand that time does not heal but rather what you do to deal with your hurt, that tends to your wounds.


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